She is four years old, and she understands, completely, the semiotics of gender differentiation. She never calls me when they're selling Killer Commando Unit, G. I. Joe, and all the other Pentagon-inspired stuff obviously for boys. She knows better. She knows she's a girl, and she knows what's for her. Twenty years of feminist politics and here I am, with a daughter who wants nothing more in the whole wide world than to buy Rollerblade Barbie.
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